


The Lion Does Roar

by averzierlia



Category: Anita Blake: Vampire Hunter - Laurell K. Hamilton
Genre: F/M, fandomverse big bang challenge
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-04-21
Updated: 2011-05-03
Packaged: 2017-10-18 10:53:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 3,968
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/188198
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/averzierlia/pseuds/averzierlia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Anita needs to choose a lion to be the Rex to her Regina.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Dressed Up

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> “Are you sure this is necessary?” I ask Jean-Claude, glaring at myself in the mirror.

“Oui, _ma petite_ ,” he says, smiling. The bastard. I glare at him in the mirror. Of course the myth that had been passed around about not showing up in a mirror (or on camera) was a lie. Good thing too, at least for vampires, because they couldn’t seem to go a night without making sure they still looked as beautiful as the day they died.

It’s funny, sometimes, how human vampires could be. Little habits and insecurities seemed to carry over into undeath, no matter what propaganda the vampires spread around.

“You look exquisite, _ma petite_ ,” Jean-Claude offers, and I stop glaring at him to look at myself critically in the mirror. I’m wearing a corset dress, a short one. The red and black and lace offset my pale skin, showing the blue veins just out of reach. It’s short, shorter than anything Jean-Claude has ever requested I wear in public, but I have to admit, it looks nice. The skirt barely covers my ass, just a few layers of lace that are nearly see through, and the corset is tight around my torso. My breasts are pushed up like an offering to a pagan god.

“What’s the occasion?” I ask absently, doing an experimental turn. No real place to hide a gun, but the sheath that goes down my spine will work, a combination of the dress and my hair covering it. The silver knife that goes in the sheath is practically a sword, and it will probably do me more good than any gun in a fight, because everything will be close quarters, and I don’t want to risk any friendly fire.

“The delegation of werelions, _ma petite_. I did tell you they would be here tonight,” he says neutrally.

I rack my brain, trying to remember. Oh. Right. I turn to face him.

“You can’t expect me to remember things you tell me during sex,” I say, shaking a finger at him, but I’m smiling. It’s a good tactic for him to use, I have to admit. I think about how I would have reacted to the tactic a year ago and shake my head. I’ve come a long way.

Jean-Claude just laughs and motions me to turn around again, and I do, slowly, a teasing promise. He watches me with deep blue eyes, one hand on his hip and the other at his side.

“Nearly perfect,” he purrs, and I smirk at him.

“Only nearly?” I ask, turning so I can see him in the mirror again.

He holds up one finger, indicating that I should wait, and walks over to the dresser. He takes a velvet box out of the top drawer and walks back over to me, flipping it open. Nestled in the soft velvet is a necklace. It’s a chain hung with four perfect ruby tear drops that hang like little drips of blood, and hanging down from between them, from where a fifth ruby drop should be is a cross, and the fifth and final tear drop, hanging from the bottom.

I lift my hair aside and let him hang it around my neck.

“Now,” he says, placing a soft kiss on my neck, “you are perfect.”


	2. Funny

“You think this is funny, don’t you?” I ask Nathaniel.

“Yes,” he says with a soft smile, petting my hair. I’m laying on one of Jean-Claude’s fainting couches, my head in my leopard’s lap.

“Ok, maybe it’s funny,” I concede. His hand slips down from my hair to toy with one of the ruby drops on my necklace.

“You look beautiful,” he offers, fingers brushing soft across my skin.

“I look like an extra in a porno,” I snap, and it isn’t fair, but I really don’t like looking like this. Give me jeans and a t-shirt any day. And sneakers, not these six inch death traps wrapped around my ankles. At least I’ll be more on level with anyone we meet tonight, instead of being half everyone’s size. I’ll still probably be the shortest person in the room, even with the stilettos.

“You don’t, I promise. If anything, you look like a vampire,” Nathaniel assures me, and he would know. He’s the one who stripped for a living. I wonder if maybe I should watch the porn he was in sometime, just to see what he had done. I’d been getting steadily less vanilla with all the men in my life. I didn’t know whether it bothered me or not.

“I just…I don’t look ridiculous?” I ask. I feel like I’m going to fall over if I try to walk in these heels, and the dress is really very short. I’ve spent my whole life knowing that I wasn’t white enough for most people. And now there was the added fact that my human friends and coworkers didn’t think I was human enough…

His fingers go back to stroking my hair. “You look _beautiful_ ,” he says again, voice firm.

“Ok,” I say, because I’ve worked hard to get Nathaniel to think for himself. If he thinks I look beautiful…I take a deep breath. If he thinks I look beautiful then I look beautiful.

I cuddle further into lap, turning over so instead of facing away from him I’m looking up at him.

“I love you, you know,” I tell him, because I do, and I don’t tell him nearly often enough.

His lips curl up, lighting up his lilac eyes, his whole face like the visage of an angel. A dirty one, I think, as I remember the things I’d let him do to me last night.

“What are you thinking about?” he asks.

“Nothing,” I say, but knowing that he can see the knowledge of last night in my eyes.

The door opens and Asher walks into the room. Must be time to go.

His next words confirm my thought. “Time to great the lions, _cherie_.”

I sit up, smoothing down the skirt of my dress, and watch Asher’s eyes follow my hands. I look up at him through my lashes.

“Do I look ok?” I ask innocently, and feel Nathaniel laughing silently beside. Asher doesn’t notice.

He swallows, and wow, I must not look anywhere near as ridiclious as I originally thought to make a vampire preform a reflexive action like that.

“You look exquiste,” he tells me, echoing Jean-Claude’s earlier words.

I stand up. Time to enter the lion’s den.


	3. Trust

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For reference: Haven is Gerard Butler, Claw is Alan Tudyk, and Marshall is Dominic Purcell.

“So who do we have?”

“Augustine has sent the lion Haven back,” Asher says, starting from the top of a mental list.

I grimace. Haven was well…I didn’t think I’d ever be able to stop thinking of him as Cookie. Plus, there was the added problem of him being empty behind the eyes. I hated stupid men. They were always more trouble than they were worth.

“How about you tell me if there is anyone I’ll even remotely consider sharing power with instead, please?” I ask. See, I could be diplomatic. I said please, and didn’t use the phrase ‘who am I least likely to kill for trying some stupid shit’.

Nathaniel snorts from behind me, having heard that particular thought from the marks. I smile, just a little, so little that it’s nearly a smirk. I love it when my men get me.

“There is Claw, who hails from a pride in Africa. And…there is Marshall,” Asher says, hesitating on the second name.

“I take it I’m not going to like Marshall, even if you think I’m not going to want to shoot him,” I say dryly.

“Let us just say,” Asher says, “that he looks dangerous. And I do not know if you would be content to share power with any of them.”

I nearly glare at him, but stop myself at the last second. I know that I have trust issues, so his statement is fair.

“So you don’t think I can trust any of them to take care of the pride?” I ask, because I like to be clear on these things. Asher has spent the last two days (nights) liaising between Jean-Claude and the potential Rex’s. He would know better than anyone.

“I would not trust them out of hand, _cherie_ ,” he says, and I can feel Nathaniel’s agreement flowing through the bond like candy coated warmth. Most days the bonds annoy me, but this feeling made me forget why. Almost.

“So where does Marshall come from?” I ask, because I don’t think I’ll ever be able to trust someone with the name _Claw_.

“I believe he is from Las Vegas,” Asher says, and that’s a bit surprising. I don’t know if I like the fact that a lion looking to be a Rex was hiding among the tigers. I hadn’t known that the white tigers had let _any_ other cats in their city. Interesting.

“So you don’t think I should trust anyone,” I say, because I like to be clear on these things. Ya, I’ve said that before. I really, really _like to be clear on things_. It saves trouble.

“I think…” he trails off, clearly unsure of himself. He takes an unnecessary breath and starts again. “I think that your best choice would be the lion Marshall, and you will have to prove that you will be a strong and fair Regina for him to agree to be your Rex. He is not a man, or lion, who trusts easily, and will trust you all the less for your pull on him, from your lion to his."


	4. Family

I stop in the hall and frown. Nathaniel and Asher stop too, and look at me.

“Have I,” I hesitate, “have I neglected my lions?”

I’ll admit, readily, to having more or less ignored the animal groups that I didn’t have a major connection with. It was Micah’s job to take care of the animal groups that needed help, not mine. I had enough on my plate. It’s like the saying goes, there isn’t enough of me to go around. Not nearly enough.

But the lions were mine. I had a lion inside me, and suddenly she was very unhappy with the thought that the lions needed something that I hadn’t been giving them. She reaches out a paw and sinks her claws into the inside of my stomach, and I hunch over with a pained gasp. She pulls out her claws and gives a low snarl.

“Alright, fine. Bitch,” I mutter, because seriously, I would have done something about it _anyway_ now that I’d thought about it. That hadn’t been necessary.

“Are you alright, Anita?” Nathaniel asks, and I nod. I’m _fine_ , fucking _dandy_. No, really.

“I’m fine,” I gasp out. I straighten slowly, waiting to see if my lion will claw me again, but she seems satisfied that I’ve gotten her message.

“Your lion?” Asher asks, which is unnecessary in my opinion. My lion was always the bitchy one.

The glare that I level at him seems to communicate this, and he gives a soft snort.

I take a slow, deep breath and lean wearily against the wall. I hated it when my lion decided to claw me up from the inside, because while the wounds were metaphysical, they still hurt like real wounds. At least they faded faster.

“No matter what happens tonight, I need to start acting like a proper Regina,” I say, fatalistically. I didn’t need another family of weres to take care of, I really didn’t. But I had one anyway. And it was time I started acting like a proper Regina, the Mother of the Pride. I needed to act like it even if I didn’t acquire a suitable Rex. I made a face. Realizing that my lion was going to be more of a bitch unless I led our pride was an unhappy revelation, even if our lions did need me. Well, they probably needed me. I didn’t know what it was about Saint Louis that made alpha lycanthropes lose their minds, but if I ever found out what it was I was going to take care of it. I was sick of being the go to for badly run lycanthrope groups. I was just lucky there weren’t any tigers here yet.

“You could probably get away with handling the pard and pride together,” Nathaniel says, and there’s an idea. That would make my life so much easier.

“Do you think that they would get along?” I ask, because I don’t want to try this and then find out that my lions and my leopards were going to try to kill each other. Talk about dysfunctional family gatherings.

“They will if you tell them too,” Nathaniel says with finality, and I nod, because that sounds about right.


	5. Water

We start walking again, and before much time has passed we’re at the right door. I grimace, because I can tell this night is going to be about as fun as getting teeth pulled. Which is to say, not very.

Asher holds the door open for me, which is thoughtful, but unnecessary, and I let it pass uncommented, because we need to put on a show of power for my three potential Rex. Originally I had expected more to show, but that was before Jean-Claude informed me that there weren’t many alpha lions, because usually the Rex of a pride killed them before they could think to challenge them for power. That Augustine had more than one alpha lion was a testament to his power.

I freeze in the doorway, because I most obliviously haven’t seen this room before, and seeing it for the first time is a bit of a shock.

The room seems to be crafted of water.

It’s an illusion, I know it is. It would take a whole coven of witches to hold water into shape, but the mirrored glass the walls are crafted from and the clear pool of water in the center of the room give the illusion of being in a giant bubble of water. It’s beautiful. I take a second glance around the room, and notice one wall _is_ actually crafted out of water, a waterfall that feeds into the pool, which looks to be a natural spring. The ground is rock, which supports the idea of a natural fed underground spring. There are fish in the pool, not koi, but salmon, bass, and trout, fish that can be hooked with a paw and eaten raw.

The entire view is breathtaking.

Jean-Claude must have really been trying to impress the visiting alpha lions, to host this gathering in such a wonderful room, catered to the tastes of cats.

Nathaniel takes in the sight of the room, and when he notices the fish in the pool he purrs, and it sends a shiver up my back. I had the feeling that my pard would be spending as much time in this room as possible.

“Jean-Claude will be pleased to know that the room has the desired effect on all parties,” Asher says, and I can hear the laugh in his voice.

“It does,” Nathaniel says, voice throaty and rough, and I can tell he wants to slip his skin and go fishing. He’s beside me, so I hip bump him. He turns his head and looks at me.

“Maybe later,” I say, and he nods, a happy smile on his face. If only it was that easy to make my other men happy. Oh well, I was working on it.

I step into the room, and I see what I thought was mirrored glass is mainly glass, thick and rippled, with pieces of mirror scattered randomly through it to create the effect of light reflecting on water.

Jean-Claude must have put a _lot_ of effort and money into this, and all to impress three lions.

Time to do my part.


	6. Habit

I turn and look at the waiting lions. They’re sprawled on three separate couches, watching each other and everyone else, including me, at the same time. I consider them objectively.

They’re all beautiful, there was no doubt about that. Haven, Cookie, with his blue hair and tattoos, Claw, who was surprisingly, white, with his blonde hair and iridescent eyes, and Marshall, strong jawed and dark haired.

I didn’t know how I knew which was which, but I did. A chill went down my back.

My hands itch for a gun that isn’t there.

They’re all dangerous, and I don’t like them in my city.

Well, technically, it’s Jean-Claude’s city, but it feels like mine. I take care of her, clean up her streets. We have a long lasting love affair, me and the city. If I believed in the sentience of inanimate objects, I’d think she was. But I didn’t, and I always ignored the little voice inside my mind that whispered of the things that should have killed me but didn’t when I was within her.

At least I had my knives, if this went bad. Old habits die hard, and kept me alive.

The one on the right, Claw, stands and bows.

“It is a pleasure to finally meet you, Regina,” he says, and his voice is sharp and has an oily quality that makes my skin crawl. I control the reaction with long practice, not letting it show on my face or in my body, and nod at him.

“I am not your Regina,” I snap, falling back on old habits. When in doubt, be pissed off.

Anger flashes in his eyes, and I can hear the half suppressed growl he makes. I glare.

Haven shifts on his couch, muscles tensing to spring into my defense, which I don’t need, or want.

And then Marshall’s voice snaps out over the room.

“Stop,” he commands, and just like that, the other two lions freeze, one half bowed, one tensed to spring. Even I can feel the power in his command wash over me, and damn, he’s powerful.

My lion uncurls and paces towards the forefront of my mind, interested.

His power is unmistakable and my lion wants him to be Rex, our Rex, the Father of the Pride.

I’m instantly wary, years of habit impossible to break. But I have to take my lion’s opinion into account, especially when I’m already turned off by the other two Rex candidates.

“Marshall,” I say, and his name drips like honey off my tongue without me meaning it to. Apparently my lion is more than willing to take matters into her own hands when it looks like I might balk.

I take a step back, shaking my head, and bump into Nathaniel. He wraps his arms around me, and my leopard wakens. I take a deep breath and let her calm me, and for once my lion doesn’t protest.

Instead of reacting like most of the alpha males I know do, he spreads his arms out in a gesture of harmlessness.


	7. Tears

That is, of course, the moment Haven and Claw lose it and attack Nathaniel, and by extension, me.

Nathaniel is fast, faster than I had known he could be, and shoves me out of the way in time to take the brunt of both attaks.

I scream, a sound of incoherent rage as I twist, rolling on the ground and up onto my feet again instead of falling.

Nathaniel falls.

I lose it.

I’m crying, because how can I not be? Nathaniel is hurt, might be dying, could be dead. But I’m _angry_.

Drawing the knife from the sheath on my back is easy, and I do it in one smooth movement. Haven and Claw have turned on each other, fighting over top Nathaniel’s body, and Haven is closer.

I kill him first.

It’s easy. So, so easy, just one thrust through the back, high up on the left side, missing the ribs and the silver blade going straight into his heart.

Augustine will be wroth.

This was me not caring.

 _Nathaniel_.

Claw proves to be suicidal, turning to confront me when his opponent falls. I pull back my arm to take off his head with my blade, and before I can, he falls like a puppet that had its strings cut.

Marshall is standing behind where Claw had been standing, Claw’s spine in one clawed hand. I spare a moment to nod at him, a thanks and appreciation between warriors, and then drop to by knees.

 _Nathaniel_.

My tears drip onto his pale face.

There’s blood at the corner of his mouth, ragged claw wounds from his shoulders to his waist, the white of bone and the pink of intestine showing.

But he’s breathing, somehow.

I sob and lay my hand where his ribcage ends, and call the munin.

Raina doesn’t even argue with me this time, or demand recompinse. She just pours her power into me, and it flows, like my tears, into his body. Nathaniel arches up with a gasp, bone regrowing and skin knitting, healing.

 _Nathaniel_. My leopard to call, my apple of blood. Mine. _Mine_. Whole.

I cradle his head in my lap and let the tears flow, unashamed. Despite what people thought, tears weren’t a sign of weakness, but a sign of strength; the strength to care, the strength to love.

I pet my leopard’s hair, and he makes a sleepy sound. Healing exhausted the healed, and the healer, so I expected him to sleep, and I wasn’t disappointed.

I glance around and notice that Jean-Claude and Asher have formed a protective wall between me and the remaining lion. He’s doing his best to seem non-threatening, which is a smart move on his part.

My lion and my leopard both roar, catching my attention. They’re both interested in him; my lion because of his display of strength, my leopard because he saved Nathaniel.

I wipe my face with my free hand, drying the tear tracks on my face.

“It’s ok,” I say, voice hoarse. I remember screaming, in an abstract way, while I killed Haven. My throat was sore, and I drop my hand from my face to rub my throat. Ow.


	8. Chapter 8

“Rex,” I say, voice hoarse.

Jean-Claude and Asher part like flowing water, and I can see Marshall clearly now. He nods respectfully at me.

“Regina,” he says, voice a deep rumble.

“Are you sure, _ma petite_?” Jean-Claude asks, and I nod. I’m more than sure, and my lion only has a little to do with it. He’d helped me save Nathaniel.

That act proved to me that he wouldn’t use my lions for his own agenda, wouldn’t abuse them. He would be the proper Rex to my Regina.

We were whole, my lion and I.

My lions, our lions now, had a Father and Mother of the Pride, as they should.

I’d found a Rex that wouldn’t act like a typical lion and try to dominate the other men in my life. I didn’t know much about him, but somehow, in the short moments we’d known each other, we’d gained each other’s trust.

I’d needed more warriors at my back, and I’d found one. He would join the rats and The Wicked Truth standing at my back to protect our fair city.

I’d added another man to my life, which was a bit of a downside, but Marshall didn’t strike me as the type of person to balk at doing what was necessary, so I had another body on the menu, which was a bit of an upside.

Richard wouldn’t be happy with another dominate to compete with, but at this point I was only Lupa when it suited him and Bolverk when it mattered, so I wasn’t really going to give a flying fuck.

I guess my life was pretty normal, even with the changes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I tried to have this read like the books do, please let me know if I succeeded.


End file.
